


Set In Stone

by UnderLilacSkyes



Category: Iron Man - Fandom, The Avengers, Thor - Fandom
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, And Also the Rules of Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Civil War Team Iron Man, Established Relationship, Future Character Death, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Not Really Character Death, POV Alternating, Playing With the Timeline a Bit, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Secret Relationship, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony and Loki's Daughter, not team Cap friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderLilacSkyes/pseuds/UnderLilacSkyes
Summary: Years from now, the Earth will be in ruins. Despite the sacrifice of one of the world's greatest heroes, it just won't be enough. She often heard their lives described as a zombie apocalypse movie, though she'd never gotten the chance to see one. Now, she's sick and tired of having to defend the world from the descendants of Thonos' rogue alien army, crazed, with no one left to lead, and beat them into submission. So what if hers was the only universe in which Thanos was destroyed? She'd make a new universe, one where the people she loved, and the people she lost could be together and alive and happy. Even if she couldn't technically be a part of it.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I have been lurking around this fandom for a while, and this fic has been bouncing around in my head for almost that long. Since we're all stuck at home with nothing to do, I figured I'd actually start writing it. I have no idea how long it's going to be, or how frequent the updates will be, but I thought now would be a good time to get some entertainment out there so we don't all die of boredom. Let me know what you think! (Also, I will probably be playing around with the rules for magic and time travel a little bit, but I hope you don't mind.) *Also also, I wasn't sure how to fit it in the summary, but this is set in an alternate reality where all of the Asgardians made it to Earth, and Tony let them stay at the tower.*

Autumn, 2038

_Just breathe. There you go. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Feel the seidr flow through you, feel it connect you to the world around you, to the rest of the universe. You can do anything you set your mind to, Little Light. Of that, I have no doubt._

She took a breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth, just as she had been taught. It didn’t seem to help. At the end of it all, she was still sitting there, cross-legged on a table with her eyes closed, no closer to her destination than she had been when she started. Which was to say, she had gotten nowhere. Somehow, even all these years later, she could still remember the words her father had spoken to her at the beginning of every lesson. Could still remember the care with which he fixed her posture and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She wasn’t sure if it was a blessing, or a curse that her dreams, (ne, nightmares) wouldn’t let her forget. She had been so young when _he_ had come and stolen everything from her, (well, not everything, but enough that she knew what it was to grow up wanting, to grow up missing something she could never have) and yet she knew she would never forget the look on her aunt’s face when she was told the news, the way her brother, strong and brave and always so _happy_ , had been fighting tears the whole way through. 

He turned away at the last second, so she wouldn’t see him cry. At least, that was how it always happened in her dreams. 

A breeze drifted through the open window, and she was reminded of just how eerily silent the street below was. She had memories of a loud and bustling city, at least, when she had been allowed to visit. She’d asked her dad once, why he’d left. He’d shuddered and said something about space, and a building with too many letters on the side and not enough inhabitants. The broken look in his eyes taught her never to ask again.

(She’d learned the truth eventually, of course, when she’d gotten older, and people had stopped being quite so careful around her.)

The memories of her parents strengthened her resolve. She could feel the seidr thrumming through the air around her and floor beneath her, (well, work table, but still) could feel it rush through her veins on its way -- somewhere. “Take me to them,” she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. The room began to glow a soft blue color. Something twisted inside of her, and then -- _I got this. I got this. Gods, I don’t got this --_

She was gone. 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. This took a bit longer than I had expected, but despite the quarantine, I have two essays to write and loads of homework to do, so I'm kind of squeezing this in during my free time. I hope you like it. Feel free to leave some comments; I do have a plan for this, but I absolutely do not mind suggestions and feedback.

Spring, 2018

When she opened her eyes, she was -- still in the workshop. Still sitting in the exact same spot she had been before, atop a worktable that had most definitely seen more than its fair share of screwdrivers, soldering irons, and miscellaneous scraps of metal. She wasn’t sure whether to feel disheartened, or entirely resigned. This was no different from how any of her other experiments had gone, and yet, something had felt, off, about this time, as if she might actually have been getting somewhere. 

She hadn’t been able to quell the hope that had risen up inside her, turning this from just another failed attempt, to something maybe just a little bit worse.

“And just who are you, exactly?” A voice accused from nowhere. 

Something strange bubbled up in her gut. A mixture of pain and fear, and something else she didn’t want to give a name. “Please don’t, FRIDAY. I’m not in the mood. I think I’m going to bed.” She moved to jump off the table, narrowly missing a wrench that she was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. The whole world swayed for a moment as she landed. Since when had meditation been so taxing? Oh well, she hadn’t eaten since, however long ago breakfast was. She’d grab a snack before going to bed. She had a feeling it was likely to be a very long and unpleasant night.

It always was after a long day of trying and failing to make her magic do what she wanted it to. 

Except, it was daytime. She must have spent longer here than she had thought. Sunlight streamed in through the window and glinted off the various tools scattered around. Had someone else been in here? She knew _she_ would never leave the workshop this messy. But also, everyone _else_ knew not to bother her when she was practicing her magic. FRIDAY had some explaining to do. 

She turned around to level an accusing glare up at one of the cameras embedded in the ceiling, doing her best to show the AI just how unamused she was. But something stopped her. Something she hadn’t seen outside of the various pieces of art and murals, something that featured heavily in her nightmares. Standing on a platform off to one side of the room, was the Mark LXXXV armor. Various wires and pieces of metal poked out, the center housing unit was missing, and the suit had yet to be painted, but there was no mistaking it. 

This was the same suit that had been destroyed fifteen years ago. The only one she hadn’t worked up the courage to painstakingly rebuild.

Her legs, still slightly wobbly and worn out from her journey, moved forward on their own accord, only stopping when she was about an arm’s breadth away from the armor. This was real. It wasn’t a dream, or an exhaustion-induced hallucination after too many hours spent in the lab. This was real. This armor, that didn’t exist in her own time, that hadn’t existed for over a decade, was right here in front of her because _she had made it._

She had cracked the code to time travel. She was going to save her parents and _the world_ \--

“I would keep your hands where I can see them, miss. Boss will be here momentarily, and he is not alone. Whatever your purpose here is, I’ll let you take it up with him.” It was a threat, and a thinly veiled one at that, and Gods, she couldn’t stop the excitement, the panic, from making itself known. It had been fifteen years since she’d seen them. This, right here, had been her goal ever since she had first picked up a screwdriver, ever since she had settled down to meditate _alone_ for the first time. To do something, to make something that could send her to this moment, _whenever she was_ , it didn’t matter. She had finally achieved what she had set out to do, and she was terrified. Completely and utterly terrified. 

She remembered Peter telling her about that time travel movie when she was little. He’d made it his mission to show her all about pop culture, movies and music that had been prominent _classics_ from before the invasion. They’d found the movies in a cabinet in her living room before they had decided to move back to the tower. Of course, between both of her parents, the cabin was able to function entirely off the grid, meaning, even with the apocalypse going on outside, they were able to enjoy some of the comforts that existed before the power grid went down. Like binging all of the _Back To The Future_ trilogy because “You _have_ to see these, Theia! They’re _classics_!”

She was pretty sure Peter had only done it to distract her, but nevertheless, she had enjoyed them. And the movies had given her all of the inspiration she had needed to begin crafting her spell. Going back in time to see her parents? To _save_ her parents? It was the fantasy she had been dreaming about without even realizing it. 

And yet, now that she was here? She didn’t know what to do or say or how to react. The last few years of thinking and planning and daydreaming had gone out the window and -- the elevator was humming. Telling the truth (if she could prove it) likely meant love and acceptance and the chance to reconnect with her parents, but it also meant that she would essentially be creating a fairytale here, in a past that was not her own. Whether she would like to or not, she couldn’t stay here forever, and having her parents here now, would only make going back to a world she knew she couldn’t change that much more difficult to deal with. 

She needed to be calm and aloof and keep her identity to herself. She needed to breathe. The elevator beeped and she could hear the doors begin to slide open. Whatever she was going to do, she was out of time now. 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected to find when she turned around, but she was not prepared for the sight of her father standing there watching her with a contemplative look on his face. He was taller than her of course, but not as tall as she remembered. He wore his full armor, complete with a deep green cape, though his helm was missing. She remembered her uncle telling her that he always wore it into battle, and her brother laughing and saying something about reindeer. 

She had a box of old pictures hidden under her bed that she pulled out whenever she felt particularly angsty and self deprecating, but apparently none of them (or her memory) could do them justice. She felt like she should pinch herself, but that would be childish, so she didn’t.

Her uncle was next out of the elevator, and then her dad and the rest of the Avengers. She’d only met some of them, but she’d seen pictures and heard descriptions of the others often enough. Peter wasn’t there though, and she wasn’t sure how she should feel about that. It would have been comforting to have a (somewhat) familiar face around, but at the same time, she knew keeping her identity a secret was probably for the best, at least for her own sanity. Having Peter around, the person who she was maybe the closest to out of everyone, and knowing that she couldn’t really lean on him in the way she was used to would be a challenge.

Her dad pushed his way to the front of the group, until he was standing just a couple of feet behind her father. A tense, silent moment passed. Then two. Her father shot a glance back over his shoulder before nodding so quickly and minutely she was half convinced she’d imagined it, and dropping his hands. She hadn’t noticed until that moment that they’d been sparking with barely concealed seidr: another threat. It hurt to realize, but she could understand why they were acting so hostile. She’d be surprised if they weren’t, to be completely honest. 

“You know, just for future reference, the front door _is_ unlocked,” her dad informed her with a smirk. Something playful, something dangerous, lurked in his eyes, but before she could think too much about it, or respond to his comment, the sound of metal clicking and shifting arose from behind her, and then heavy footsteps thumped forward. She didn’t have to turn around to know just what it was. She wondered if FRIDAY had told them that she knew her name, or if this was just standard protocol for when a random stranger with magical powers appeared in the lab. 

“I -- I’m sorry,” she breathed, her eyes bouncing from her dad to her father, to her uncle and the other Avengers. They looked just how she remembered them, if slightly younger, and less distorted by the passage of time and too-old memories. “I didn’t mean to -- I wasn’t sure where -- when -- I’d end up.” Gods, of all the times she’d imagined this, she hadn’t imagined turning into a stuttering mess almost instantly. 

She inched towards them and away from the unfinished armor, realizing perhaps a moment too late how suspicious she likely looked, standing in front of the newest Iron Man in her dad’s workshop when she so clearly had magical abilities and they didn’t even know her name. (And they wouldn’t, she thought, at least, not until they came up with it themselves.) She’d look less suspicious if she simply blew the hinges off the front door of the tower and waltzed right in.

She still couldn’t figure out how to breathe properly, and at this point, she couldn’t tell if it was due to the overexertion from finally casting the nearly impossible spell, or if it was because she was staring down the eyes of ghosts she never thought she’d ever see again. Regardless of the reason, all of it left her head spinning. 

“I need your help. Please.” Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away, or under water. She felt her legs wobble again, and this time, she wasn’t able to steady herself. Her knees hit the ground, and _gods_ was she tired. Maybe there was a reason it had taken her nearly a decade to get the spell right. Maybe she should have practiced a bit more, or for the Norns’ sake, eaten something like her brother had asked her to. 

Well, she supposed, finally losing her grip on consciousness, it was too late for “should haves” now.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, I don't intend for this fic to get smutty as of right now, but that is subject to change depending on how things go. Now, here, have some angst. Hope you enjoy!

Three Days Earlier

_This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Bucky Barnes had been running around as Hydra’s bloodthirsty little puppet. Steve was too blinded by nostalgia and love to see that Barnes wasn’t the same as he used to be. He was a stone cold killer. Regardless of whatever Hydra had done to him, he was a danger to just about everyone he came across, and possibly even himself. He couldn’t blame Steve for caring about the guy, but they had to stop Barnes at any and all costs._

_When Tony had made the decision to go after Steve, he thought he had been going to help, as the backup he feared Steve would sorely need against Zemo. He hadn’t expected to find out that someone he had considered an ally and friend had been lying to him about something so important for months. Rogers had known that his parents had been murdered, and he’d known by whom, and yet he had chosen, not only to keep that information to himself, but also to help a dangerous criminal._

_Yes, he was angry about his parents’ fate. He could lie and say that he wasn’t at least a little bit traumatized by the sight of his mother being murdered, but it wasn’t that which caused him to lash out against Rogers. Bucky was brainwashed. He didn’t know what he was doing. Tony could understand what it was to be coerced into doing terrible things. The only difference between them was that he still had some ounce of free will, he was able to fight back and to escape when Bucky wasn’t._

_It was the fact that Rogers had the gall to call Tony his friend, and then to keep all of this from him. It was the fact that if Rogers had come to the Avengers and told them that his friend was in danger, that he wasn’t in control of his actions, they would have helped. As a team. Rogers knew that he was about to be caught in a lie and he couldn’t trust that they would believe him about Bucky’s innocence. He chose to aid a weapon specifically designed by Hydra rather than ask Tony for help, and admit that maybe, he was wrong._

_And now there was a little red warning flashing in the corner of his field of vision. FRIDAY’s voice was frantically buzzing in his ear, but he couldn’t tell much beyond the fact that she was panicking. He wanted to tell her to calm down, that she was going too fast and was too freaked out to make any sense, but he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to speak. The little red warning continued to flash, on, off, on, off. He tried to breathe with it, but the full force of Rogers’ shield slamming into his chest made just about everything too difficult._

_And then, just as suddenly as he had begun, he stopped. His eyes flashed upward, away from his gruesome task. He took in a ragged, almost watery breath, coughed slightly. There was blood on his lips. It was only then, after he’d had a moment to breathe, to think, that Tony was able to notice the gleaming metallic hilt of a blade protruding from Rogers’ chest. He knew that hilt. He had_ forged _that hilt._

Loki.

_Rogers' body slumped atop him as he continued trying to catch his breath. The added weight didn't help, but at least he didn't have to deal with that damn shield repeatedly slamming into his chest. He had never been more grateful that he had gotten the reactor removed, that the one which was dying out now only powered the suit, and not him._

_Before he could attempt to shove Rogers' prone body off of himself so that he could breathe, sit up, go home, pale hands wrapped around Rogers' shoulders and flung him off to one side as if he weighed nothing, as if he was nothing but a boneless rag doll. With Rogers out of the way, those hands focused on him, fluttering from his shoulders to his face to his arms, and anything else they could reach. The crushed mechanical pieces of the suit began to fall away, and were immediately replaced by a glowing green energy that he could feel running over his skin, looking for any cut, bruise, or broken bone, and doing its best to mend them._

_Loki always said he wasn’t very good at healing spells, but right now, Tony couldn’t care less. Anything felt better than being beaten to a bloody pulp with an unbreakable hunk of metal._

_His hands were shaking as he finished and the glowing light of the magic faded out. Tony didn’t think it had anything to do with overexertion or complicated spell work, but he knew better than to say anything. Watching Steve Rogers basically attempt to murder him, (he doubted Rogers would actually take it that far, but at the very least, he was trying to make sure Tony would be stranded here in Siberia, injured and with no way of getting out) had been difficult for Tony, but he had to imagine it would be on a different level for Loki, who, had he gotten here a few moments later, may have had to watch Rogers kill him. (Or at least, that’s what it would look like.)_

_He tried to say something, to comfort Loki somehow, but no words came out. But Loki would know, right? That he was okay? His magic would sense it --_

_Tony’s thoughts were cut off by something grabbing Loki, and pulling him forcefully away. For a split second as Tony sat up fully, there was nothing there at all, as if Loki had somehow been blown backwards by the wind. Then a hand, too large and oddly colored, reached out from one of the dark corners of the bunker and wrapped around Loki’s neck. In the quiet, he could hear Loki’s breathing grow even more ragged than his own._

_“You thought you could get away from me, little Asgardian?” A deep, chilling voice questioned. After a slight pause, the voice scoffed and continued without an answer. “Little Jotunn runt? You lost. You failed me. And now -- you no longer serve a purpose, except, apparently, to turn your new friends against me. You will pay for that.”_

_The sound of cracking bones reverberated off the walls of the bunker a split second before Loki’s limp body hit the ground. Tony screamed, though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was screaming at. He was alone._

_He was alone._

***

When he woke up, he still couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see or hear anything and -- was he dead? Was Loki? Loki was dead. He had seen it with his own eyes. He had watched him take his last breath. But if they were both dead, surely Loki would be here. And yet, he was still alone. It was dark outside, and the room was cold. Cold like ice, cold like a Siberian bunker, cold like death. 

“Boss, your vitals indicate that you may be experiencing a panic attack. You need to remember to breathe.” FRIDAY informed him helpfully. She had been programmed to help out in this way of course, but she wasn’t who Tony needed right now. It appeared that what he needed didn’t matter though, as the other side of the bed remained cold and empty. He couldn’t calm down when Thanos was out there somewhere and Loki could be dead and -- FRIDAY was right: he needed to breathe. It was just a dream. He was alright (relatively speaking) and Loki was probably fine too. They of course had their demons to fight and deal with, but those demons had no place in their bedroom. 

With his breathing at least somewhat under control, Tony sat up, feeling a strange cool sensation swirl around him as he did. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he could see a layer of shimmering green seidr which happened to trace around the edges of the room like a curtain. Like a shield. 

“FRI, where’s Loki?”

“He appears to be in his private rooms, Boss. Would you like me to summon him?” Though the knowledge was able to quell some of the anxiety that had risen up in Tony after the nightmare and waking up alone, it was short lived. Loki was supposed to be here with him. He specifically remembered falling asleep wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms. He needed him. He needed to see that he was okay. 

“No, that’s alright,” he sighed as he rolled out of bed and shuffled over to the dresser. He was awake now, and he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep again anyway. Maybe Loki had the right idea. He pulled on a pair of sleep pants and headed for the door, only remembering to ask when he reached the elevator: “He’s alone, right?”

“Yes, Boss,” was the simple reply. A pause and then, as Tony was stepping into the elevator, “It’s just after two in the morning. Most everyone else is asleep.”

Tony caught a glance out the window before the elevator doors shut fully. Pitch black out. (Well, if you ignored the skyscrapers anyway.) Dark like space, like that black hole in the sky, like Loki’s eyes when he hit the ground. He shook his head, trying to think of something, _anything_ else. “Right.” He had to bite his tongue to keep from asking her to stop on the communal floor so he could get a drink. 

Loki’s floor was dark, but there was a faint green glow emanating from down the hall, in the direction of his bedroom, and the room he used for meditating and practicing spell work. Tony wondered idly as he walked if something similar had woken Loki up during the night, causing him to hunt down his own distractions. It would explain why he felt the need to ward the room in his absence. 

Inside the room, Loki sat cross-legged on the floor, clad in one of Tony’s shirts. It wasn’t the first time Tony had seen him in his clothes, but given the fact that they didn’t exactly want the whole tower to know that they were… whatever they were (sleeping together wasn’t serious enough, but they weren’t exactly dating either) so they had to keep the PDA to a minimum. And by minimum, he meant nonexistent. Needless to say, seeing Loki in the worn Metallica shirt he’d been wearing yesterday was a heady sight. 

His eyes were open, but glowing that familiar green that told Tony he likely wasn’t actually seeing anything that was in the room with them. Tony considered turning around and trying to go back to bed, or maybe head down to the lab to tinker on something until he passed out. It was pretty clear now that Loki was fine, (and definitely busy with something) and he had a feeling that going to sleep now wasn’t an option. But before he could turn around and attempt to quietly make his exit, the otherworldly green faded from Loki’s eyes and he focused his gaze on Tony. 

“It’s late. I didn’t expect you to wake for at least another seven hours.” Tony could hear the amusement in his tone before it was replaced with something else, something far more serious. Something flashed in his eyes for a brief second, but it was hard to interpret in the relative darkness. “Is something the matter?” He asked, getting up and brushing a hand through his hair. He took a couple of steps in Tony’s direction before he froze. “Anthony, you’re shaking.”

Tony tried to laugh, but it came out wrong. “Am I?” He glanced down to his hands for a moment before turning his gaze back to Loki. “I guess I am. It’s fine though. I’m fine.” 

Loki didn’t look convinced in the slightest. 

“Another nightmare?” he questioned, closing the gap between them and bringing his hand up to cup the side of Tony’s face. Tony didn’t answer, and that was all the answer that Loki needed. “I can help you sleep, if you’d like.”

Tony thought about that for a moment. Loki had used magic to help him sleep a handful of times, but only on the nights that were really bad. (Admittedly, this probably counted as _really bad_ too, but now that he was fully awake and with Loki, he was feeling better.) “I’ll be okay. I just -- I woke up, and you weren’t there. Guess I panicked a little.”

“Oh,” Loki replied, obviously taken aback a little by the confession. “I didn’t realize. I am sorry, Anthony. I didn’t think.” He glanced back over his shoulder for just a moment before turning back to face Tony. “My efforts tonight have been fruitless anyway. I should have stayed with you. Come. Let’s go to bed.”

Tony snorted. “Was that an innuendo? I swear, you just want me for my body.”

Loki laughed, full and loud. “You are quite wrong about that. And,” he continued, leaning down to press his lips to Tony’s is a sweet kiss, “that was whatever you want it to be, _min kjaere._ ”

A moment later, they were standing in Tony’s (their) bedroom, and Loki was pushing him backwards, towards the bed. Tony landed on his back with a soft thud before Loki climbed on top of him. Loki was in the middle of kissing his way up and down Tony’s neck, (being careful to only leave marks in places that could easily be hidden by a shirt) when Tony began to speak. He stared at the ceiling as he attempted to keep his voice even. “We were fighting again, and I was only halfway sure he wasn’t going to kill me.” Loki slowed down at the words, taking care to be as gentle and loving as he could while he listened. “Then you showed up, and you saved me. But then, then Th-Thanos was there and he pulled you away and before I could even sit up, he’d, he’d --”

Tony cut himself off and tried to focus on the fact that Loki was here and real and alive on top of him. That dream wasn’t real. That dream wasn’t real. “I’m right here, Anthony. You’re okay. I’m okay. I promise.”

“Stay with me?” He asked breathlessly (in a good way this time) as Loki made his way down towards Tony’s pants and began to tug them down. 

“Where else would I go?”


End file.
